


Search and Rescue

by glanmire



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom
Genre: Gen, mutant!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-26
Updated: 2014-07-26
Packaged: 2018-02-10 13:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2026497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glanmire/pseuds/glanmire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where being a mutant means being dragged away and probably killed, showing Erik Lehnsherr that he's a telepath maybe wasn't the smartest choice, but it worked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Search and Rescue

 

The daycare centre had been just a place where parents could dump their mutant children for an hour or so. It wasn’t like human babysitters would mind kids who could spontaneously combust or whatnot- and who could blame them, honestly - so Charles had volunteered his services instead. As a telepath, he thought that he’d be suited to the job.  
But that’s all over now. Now, being mutant, or even affiliated with one, is dangerous. The daycare is unfortunately located on the human side of the city - because nothing works like good old-fashioned segregation, right? - and so now Charles has a strictly human clientele.  

 He’s lucky, in a way, he supposes. District M - no prizes for guessing what the M stands for - has been sporadically bombed for the last few weeks. The attacks are blamed on various hate groups, but then again, the government itself is just a hate group these days, albeit with fancier stationary and better funding.  
So now officially Charles’ daycare is now for human children, though there’s no fun in that. Unofficially, Charles is actually sneaking in refugees from District M and giving them a place to stay until -

until what, well he doesn’t quite know. There isn’t a next stop, a next location for the dislocated mutants . There’s just evasion and survival and pretending to be human. That’s all there is anymore. 

 

 

There’s a sudden, loud pounding at the door, and Charles goes to it, wary. He glances through the peephole; there’s a man with a rifle over his shoulder, wearing combat boots, khakis, the works. He’d cut a terrifying figure except for the two little kids he has his arms protectively slung around. Charles waves at Hank _\- hold the fort for a moment Hank, would you-_ and steps outside, glancing around, and closes the door behind him carefully.If any of the children were to go home and say _mommy mommy there was a man with a gun here today…_

“Can you take them in?” the man asks before Charles can even say hello.  
“Of course,” Charles replies. “How long do you plan on leaving them here or-”   
He trails off, conscious of the man’s gaze on his face. Erik, he reads from him. His name is Erik.  

Erik steps closer. “I’ve heard you can be trusted, so listen closely. These kids are…”

He stops, and momentarily seems to lose some of his bravado, and Charles understands. 

_They’re mutants. Don’t worry, we take everyone here,_ he projects into Erik’s mind, which is a lie, but he somehow can’t refuse the stranger. It was reckless of him, stupid even, to flaunt his mutation like that, like it’s some sort of party trick, but Erik looks visibly relieved that Charles is a mutant too. Makes sense. Trust a mutant to mind mutant kids. “Dad, please,” the girl - Wanda- pleads. “Don’t go.” Erik kisses the top of her head, and it seems such a gentle gesture from such a tough man. “I’m sorry, but I have to, sweetheart,” he says softly. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He’s hiding something, but Charles can’t quite figure out what just yet. 

Erik nods at Charles once more, and then he’s running into the night, back towards district M, which is a decidedly unsafe direction to be running towards, all things considered. 

_We didn’t even discuss payment,_ Charles thinks, but there’s nothing to be done for that now. He crouches down so he’s at the kids level. He’ll ruin his good suit, bending the knees like this. “Hi,” he says. “I’m Charles.” 

“Wanda,” the little girl says, sticking out a pudgy hand, and shakes his sanctimoniously, and somehow he feels like he’s being judged. 

“I’m Pietro,” the boy who must be her twin says, looking up from a handheld game, disinterested. “We’re hungry.” 

“You can have food in just a moment,” Charles promises. “Do you guys have any-” and he struggles to phrase it carefully, “any magic tricks?”   
Pietro’s eyes go wide, like this is a secret, which it is. 

“We don’t do any magic tricks,” Wanda says firmly, and Charles knows that’s not true but at least Erik has them taught well. 

“Good,” he says, and doesn’t push it further. No need to get them thinking too much about their powers.   


-

 

They get another refugee that night. He’s a surly-looking kid with a long, infected gash on his arm, named Alex, and he’s as furtive as they come. Definitely a mutant.

“This is how this is going to work,” Charles says to Alex, who’s watching Hank stitch up the arm like he’s deciding whether or not to punch him, “You can stay here for one night. We’ll give you food, but in return you have to work.”

“What kind of work?” Alex asks suspiciously. 

“There’s babies with diapers. That bathroom needs to be mopped. Everyone needs to fed. Choose something and do it.” 

Alex looks at him like he’s crazy. “It’s a war-zone out there, and you want me cleaning?” 

Charles takes a deep breath. “Until this building is flattened to the ground, we will continue as normally. If you can’t abide by that, leave, but remember, it is a ‘war-zone out there.’ You won’t last long with that arm.”

He doesn’t know when he got so mean, but sometimes it’s the only thing that people like Alex respect; showing a bit of steel. 

“Fine, but in return you gotta take in my brother.”  
Charles sighs. “Age?” 

“Seven.” 

Alex stares at him, and Charles waits. 

“Okay, and he kind of, erm-” 

“He shoots lasers out of his eyes,” Charles says, shocked, seeing the image that floats to Alex’s mind. 

“Yeah, that.” 

“Fine,” Charles sighs. This used to be a respected establishment. Now he’s taking in strays like there’s no tomorrow. 

“I swear he won’t, y’know, do the laser thing, he’s got it under control-”

Charles doesn’t call Alex out on the lie. “It’s fine. Go get him.” 

-

 

Charles had had no choice but to put Wanda, Pietro and now Scott too, in with the other kids, the human kids, and hope they didn’t accidentally show off their powers. But they’re what, six and seven? What self-control are they meant to have? He suddenly hates Erik, who he doesn’t even know, for endangering him like this. He can’t blame Alex as much. He’s only a teenager himself. 

“I want my dad,” Wanda says. They’re supposed to be watching tv - Charles is too stressed today to read to them like he’s meant to. Pietro glances at her and mutters something too quick for Charles to catch, but Wanda shakes her head and there’s tears in her eyes, and the floor seems to shake just a little under Charles’ feet. 

“I want my dad,” she repeats, and Charles goes to her side. There can’t be a fuss. He doesn’t exactly understand what her power is, what she’s capable of, but anything at all is dangerous, and if she’s making the building shake, consciously or not-  

“I know,” he says softly, “but he’ll be back in the morning-”

“What if he dies?” she asks, quivering and Charles has no easy answer for that. “Of course he won’t,” he says nonchalantly, like that’s not even remotely possible. “Your dad is too strong, fast and clever to get hurt.” He knows nothing about Erik other than his name, so this is basically rubbish, but Wanda seems accepts the answer. Charles supposes that all kids like to think their dad is a hero. The floor stills again under his feet, like a physical manifestation of this one girl’s happiness. 

-

 

The bombs are closer than usual tonight. The daycare straddles the human and mutant border, and it seems that district M is having a bad night of it. The human kids all went home hours ago - it’s not an over-night business-but Charles is forced to wait with Wanda, Pietro and Scott. It’s not like he can bring them back to his flat - Erik wouldn’t know where that is, and anyway, he doesn’t have enough beds for all these strays he’s managed to pick up.   


The boys had nodded off a while back. Alex is quietly scrubbing the floor, not complaining at much as Charles thought he would. Hank had the privilege of being able to go home to a bed.  
Wanda isn’t coping so well though, and Charles is keeping a weary eye on her. She’s been staring bug-eyed at the door for hours, waiting for Erik to burst in, and despite himself, Charles is waiting too, glancing at the door every few minutes like a stood-up date at a restaurant. 

But there’s no sign of the man, and eventually Charles falls asleep, huddled in an armchair, still improbably wearing his suit. 

 

-

 

 

Klaxons. Incessant screeching noises. Charles wakes with a jolt from where he’d nodded off - someone had draped a blanket over him, probably Hank. 

The walls are shaking, and everyone is alert, shouting. 

“What’s going on?” he yells and Alex motions for everyone to get down. “What do you think?” he shouts back, and then the walls themselves are shuddering. 

Charles yells for everyone to hold on, to get down and then the television is toppling off its stand from above and Charles _pushes_ out with his mind and half a dozen kids fly out of the way but he hasn’t had time to move himself - and it’s a second from his face now and he tenses and-

and then the television freezes, a notch from his nose. 

He breathes again, and it almost meekly floats down to rest the floor, safely past him. 

“Everyone okay?” he asks and there’s a murmur of assent and that alone must be a miracle.   
Charles glances quickly through the crowd, and sees him. Erik. Standing with his children- and Charles knows then that this was no miracle. This is what Erik was hiding. He obviously thought Charles would pity the kids and take them in despite their mutant status, but he clearly didn’t trust Charles enough to show that he’s a mutant too. 

 

Silence now. The roof is not collapsing on anyone yet, but now everyone knows now that there’s a mutant in their midst. There’s actually several mutants here, Charles notes to himself, but no need to tell anyone that. 

_Thank you,_ he sends and he sees Erik’s shoulder tighten. Confusion. Panic. _How does he know it was me? If he rats us out- protect the twins- better go- have deal with him._

_Erik,_ Charles says, cutting through Erik’s rather violent thoughts, _there’s no need to run. You have leverage over me too, you know my status. We’re even._  

 

A woman steps forward from by the desk, where Hank is signing children in. “There’s a mutant here,” she spits. “Why is no-one saying it?” 

Her child, a little boy, looks embarrassed, but she doesn’t seem to be the type of mother who cares what her child feels about her behaviour.

 

Pietro is playing his game, and his thumbs work fast, frantically stabbing at the game. Charles doesn’t say it, but he fears what will happen if Pietro shows off his speed or if Wanda causes another accident, or if little Scott burns through a wall. He looks back at the woman. 

“This is a daycare, a place for children,” Charles says as cooly as he can. “Please, there’s no need for hatred or violence-”

“Mutant-loving scum,” a gaunt looking-man mutters from further back in the queue. Charles doesn’t respond that but stares the woman down. Margaret, her name is. 

“No-one despises the destruction caused by mutants more than I,” he says, and softly pushes at her mind. _Let it go.  
_ Everyone has had anti-telepath training. If anyone even notices the slightest brush against their minds- a nudge, nothing more, but still- 

_Let it go,_ he whispers in Margaret’s head, a suggestion. 

She considers him for another moment, and then sighs. “Come on Johnny, we’re going somewhere else. I’m sure we can find another place that isn’t so blatantly pro-mutant.” 

_If only you knew,_ Charles thinks, and lets her leave without a word. 

That had been fairly easy, all things considered. 

 

-

 

It’s never that easy. Armed guards storm the premises only minutes later. Margaret mustn’t have let it go after all, he thinks bitterly. They wear head-to-toe black clothing and helmets, and are not a soothing presence. Terrified children cower in the corner. What will they tell their parents? _Mommy mommy today a soldier nearly killed us._ His business is screwed, he thinks blithely, and takes off his shoes patiently and lets himself be patted down

“Is this really necessary?” he asks. “You’re scaring the children.” 

She stares back at him. “Sir, there was a report of mutant activity on these premises. This is protocol.” 

Hank is arguing too; pleading. He won’t take off his shoes, and now guards are looking interested, and wandering over, and Charles thinks _no,_ and Hank is shaking, “No, I can’t- don’t, please don’t-” and Charles counts the guards - seven, eight, there’s too many, he’ll get caught, and these guys have top-notch anti-telepath training, it’s a suicide attempt to even try— and Erik stands, his jaw clenched, tense, and one of the guards steps forward and simply tasers Hank on the spot. He spasms and they grab him and rip off his shoes, revealing the mutated feet. The leader nods and two guards carry Hank away, who’s still twitching and sobbing. 

No-one says anything. The leader turns back to Charles, eyes blank. “That will be all,” she says, and they’re gone. 

 

 

-

 

The daily programming comes on. 

“Mutants,” the man says, “need to be apprehended. We must ask ourselves, how can a human engineer compete with a mutant with telekinesis? Or a doctor with a mutant who can heal? It’s not fair and it’s not right. 

The mutants hate us. They want to kill us and have a society where it’s just them, or where we’re their slaves. They think we’re lesser than them, and they have no qualms killing us to get what they want. If you know of a mutant, or suspect someone is one, don’t hesitate to call us. You could save a human life.” 

Charles turns off the television. No-one protests. 

 

-

 

He’s ringing parents who are stubbornly refusing to hear what he has to say. 

“Yes, it’s closing for the day, yes I know you’re otherwise engaged but there’s been a death in the family-”

It’s close enough to the truth. He’s not naive enough to think he’ll ever see Hank again. 

In ones and twos, the children finally leave, aggravated parents picking them up, their anger rolling off them like pots off the stove, making the air around them hot. Charles murmurs his excuses until they go. 

Erik puts a hand on his shoulder. 

“I didn’t expect you to hang around,” Charles says harshly, harsher than he meant to. 

There’s something akin to guilt coming from Erik. He figures it out easily enough.   
“You think they should have taken you, because you were the reason they came in the first place, but you didn’t sacrifice yourself either.” 

“I couldn’t do that to the kids.” 

Charles sighs. “You should have just let the television crush me.” 

“If they weren’t bombing us, it wouldn’t have fallen in the first place.” 

 

Charles watches Alex try cheer up the kids, but distantly, like he’s watching it from far away.

“Charles,” Erik says, breaking him out of his reverie. “Now that the daycare is effectively out of business-”

“It’s not-” Charles protests weakly, but he’s fooling no-one. 

“Well, you never asked me where I was last night.”

Charles looks at Erik, surprised by the non-sequitur. “Fine. Where were you last night Erik?” 

“Let’s just say it’ll put your mutation to use.” 

 

 

-

 

“I can’t believe you convinced me into this,” Charles says that night. Erik ignores that and marches him over the district border.  

“There he is,” Erik says after a moment, pointing, and Charles finally understands why Azazel couldn’t meet them in district H. Above anyone Charles has ever met, Azazel could not possibly hope to pass for human, with his red skin, and jesus, is that a tail? 

“This is the plan of action,” Erik announces. “There’s people out there, people who are about to get bombed and killed tonight, or even trapped since yesterday. Charles, you can search out for survivors. Azazel, you’ll have to teleport inside the houses if needs be, and drop people back to the daycare, which we can now use as a base.”   
Charles gets the feeling that Erik is only saying this for his benefit - surely him and Azazel know the drill at this stage, and he’s oddly grateful. They begin carefully walking through the ruined streets, and Charles wishes there was more light- and then doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see any bodies. 

 

-

“There’s a child in that one! Third door on the left!” Charles roars. They’ve gone the whole way through to the mostly-still upright part of the district, but it’s currently ablaze and Charles is afraid that they won’t hear him over the cacophony of alarms, of the sheer sound of flames alone, and the steady, dull ringing that maybe just be in his own ears. Azazel nods and he’s gone and back in a flash, the terrified kid in his arms. 

“Daycare centre,” Erik barks and Azazel is gone again. Alex will take care of the kid. Hank would have before, but -

They move on, wary now that they don’t have Azazel to dart in and out of the burning houses. Charles doesn’t want to, but he probes out with his mind, searching for life in the charred carcasses of what used to be homes. 

“There,” he whispers, voice tight from smoke. “Under the rubble, two houses down.” He feels the tendrils of panic coming from the person - Moira, her name is Moira- but they’re weaker than he’d like. She’s hurt. 

Charles and Erik race down the street, half-blind from the smoke. Charles hones in on her panicked thoughts, like a ship searching for that brilliant white light on the shore. Her mind is his beacon. 

 

They never would have seen her, he reflects, without him. She’s almost completely covered by the rubble- it’s a miracle she’s not dead already. Erik lifts what he can with his power, but barely any of it is metal. It’s bricks and mortar, chunks of gravel and rubble. Charles begins scrambling at the debris, trying to get at her, and Erik helps too. Azazel appears again and together they shift most of it off her. 

_It’s alright,_ Charles sends out, _we’re coming, we’re going to help you._ When they finally unearth her body though, Charles steps back. She’s wearing black clothing, and beside her is a helmet, obviously dislodged on impact. 

She’s a guard. 

 

Charles feels Erik tense beside him, and Azazel teleports across the street - Charles can’t blame him -but he himself isn’t just going to leave her be, just because she’s human. 

“Are you okay?” he asks tentatively. Stupid question. She was almost crushed to death. 

“You,” she croaks. “You spoke in my head.” 

Erik looks at him accusingly, and Charles avoids the glare. They all used their powers tonight. It had been instinct. 

“C’mon love, we’re going to get you out of here-” he promises, but that’s not entirely true, is it? Azazel won’t teleport a human out, Charles knows that without asking. Too risky. 

“I won’t tell,” she says, catching the hesitation in his voice. Erik is still staring at Charles and Charles tries to block out what he’s thinking. _Has to be dealt with. Can’t be trusted._

With brutal certainty Charles realises that Erik will kill Moira if he thinks she knows Charles is a mutant. He remembers Hank and shivers, but Moira doesn’t deserve to die either. 

_You have to say that you hallucinated it,_ he sends to her, and sees a glimmer of comprehension in her eyes. She’s a smart girl. 

“The house just collapsed around me, and I was so scared, and Jesus, you must have been calling out to me, shouting, that’s what I heard- thank you- I owe you my life,” she says, tears in her eyes. She’s a fantastic actress, and Charles thinks more than half of it is the truth anyway. Erik lets out a breath beside him, and Moira has probably just saved her own life. 

“What were you doing here anyway?” Erik asks her cuttingly. 

“Routine patrolling,” she says. “We had no warning either-”

“Are you okay to walk?” Charles asks gently, and she nods. “Right. If you head straight down that street, and you’ll be in District H in no time,” Charles says, in what he hopes is a reassuring voice. She rises, shakily, and surprisingly hugs him. “Thank you,” she whispers in Charles’ ear, and lets him go. She does not hug Erik, but turns to leave, and then she’s gone, into the whirling smoke like she was no more than a mirage. Erik is still staring at Charles, but doesn’t say anything, and they move on. There’s more lives to be saved tonight. 

 

“So how did you pass for a human?” Azazel asks him eventually. “I hear there’s rigorous testing if you want to open a business.” 

Charles thinks about his answer before replying. “There is. They do all the usual background checks, but I’m first-generation mutant, so at least there wasn’t any family history.” 

“And?” 

“And finally they say you’ve failed the testing and go to shoot you point blank. They reckon any mutant will use their power to save their life when they think they’re done for anyway. Obviously, not everyone has a mutation that would be relevant, but they catch a lot of people that way.” 

Erik is quiet, and he imagines him casually flinging the gun away, inadvertently sealing his fate. Azazel would teleport away, Alex would fire a laser-blast -

and Hank wouldn’t have done anything, because what good would weird feet do? The bitter irony is that he’s the only one who would have passed - 

“Well I obviously picked up on the ruse and starting crying, saying how I was human through and through and that was that.” 

Erik nods, like he’s storing this information away, and then Charles feels a presence further down the street, and they drop it. 

-

 

 

It’s a brutal night’s work but it’s satisfying, more so than just minding children anyway. 

“Your face was hilarious when that lamp post nearly toppled on you,” Erik says, and he’s teasing him, and Charles smiles because it’s better than the sullen Erik from before. His feet are heavy but his heart is light. Azazel has called it a night, and they’re making their way back to district H now. 

“Hey, I wasn’t entirely sure if you were planning on letting it impale me or not.” 

Erik’s eyes glint in the low light. “Maybe if you were so doubtful you should have moved out of the way.”

“I had faith,” Charles says, carefully stepped around a toppled car that looks like a beetle on its back, and Erik laughs. “Fine, okay, I was too lazy to move, but I knew you wouldn’t just-”

He stops as two twin headlights bear down on them. Erik freezes beside him, and Charles feels the indecision. _I could probably get away- cut through street there- but Charles?_

He lays a hand of Erik’s shoulder. “I have this,” he says. “Trust me.” 

Erik is not the trusting type, but he doesn’t protest, though every instinct in his body is telling him to run. 

The guard hops nimbly out of the jeep and shines a torch on them, blinding them. 

“What are you two doing here?” she asks. _Mutants?_ she thinks. _Shit, I’m alone - backup._ Her hand ghosts over the top of her gun in its holster, ready. 

Charles can’t reply and say _relief work_ because mutant scum doesn’t deserve to be saved after all. “We got word of an officer missing,” he says instead, “last seen near here. We found here. Moira McTaggert.” 

The officer frowns - _Moira? Jesus, was she hurt-_ and touches her earpiece. Charles waits patiently, though Erik is balling his fists and then relaxing them, on and off, on and off. It’s not the tick of an innocent man, and Charles wishes he would stop. 

“Alright,” the officer says finally. “You’re good to go. Don’t let me see you here again.” 

“No ma’am,” Charles says, showing all due respect, though he can feel a sudden spike in Erik’s anger at the phrase. 

The officer’s expression softens. _They did save Moira- if they hadn’t-_ “Do you boys want a lift back to the district?” she asks. 

Charles would love a lift, truly, and the officer seems nice, but Erik would probably explode. “No thank you,” he says. “It’s good to stretch the old legs.” 

She looks at him doubtfully but doesn’t bother arguing. She’s preoccupied - _wonder what hospital she’s in -_ and jumps back into the jeep without another word. 

 

-

 

“The kids are moving on soon,” Erik says, when they’re back at Charles flat, showered and respectable after another crazy night. They’d found a rhythm, a method. Charles thought he, Erik and Azazel were a team. Now Erik is leaving?

“Oh,” Charles says, not knowing how to respond. 

“Yes, Magda’s parents have agreed to take the kids.” Magda had been their mother, killed in a mutant-hate crime two years back. Charles doesn’t know much of the details other than that she was human, only killed for association.  
“Do they know about the kids’ powers?” 

Erik’s jaw works, but he’s silent. “No,” he says after a moment. “They despise mutants, but it’s only temporary, until I sort this all out-”

“How _exactly_ do you plan on changing the systematic oppression and hatred Erik, in the time it’ll take for them to realise your children are mutants?”

“We just need to show the world that we’re more powerful than this.” 

“What does that even mean?” Charles says, exasperated. “The key is showing them that we’re the same, that all this is unnecessary-”

“Humans love to hate Charles,” Erik says darkly. “You can’t change that. But we can teach them that if they hurt us, we’ll hurt them back.” 

“No Erik, no,” and he doesn’t want to think about the meaning under Erik’s words, the actions that would go along with them. “I’m going to the mayor’s office tomorrow, to plea the mutant cause. I’ve got Moira too, there’s support for a ceasefire-”

“And are you going to tell him that you’re a mutant?” Erik snaps. Charles pauses, unsure how to phrase it, but Erik knows what he’s going to say anyway. 

“They won’t listen to me if I do,” Charles protests weakly. 

Erik grabs his wrist, tightly. “Listen to me Charles. Don’t go to district H tomorrow. My people-”

“Let go of me Erik-” Charles says, struggling against Erik’s iron grip. “Charles. Myself and Azazel have a plan involving district H tomorrow. Promise me you won’t go there.” 

“And what about the daycare centre, Erik? Is that going to be affected by your plan? The place where your children are staying?” 

Something changes in Erik’s expression, but Charles still can’t read it. “No,” he says slowly. “It’ll be safe there. I’m telling you to stay there, Charles.” 

_Let go!_ Charles thinks, and Erik drops his wrist like it was burning him, and steps back. Charles looks at him, appalled. “I’m sorry Erik, I didn’t mean to-”

Erik stares at him, pure loathing in his eyes. “I’m just going to go now,” Charles says. Erik doesn’t say anything, but watches him go, the anger almost fading to something that looks like - like hurt?

 

-

 

Charles reaches the daycare centre in no time, and immediately the sticky-handed children are clawing at him. _Charles look at my picture, Charles my knee hurts, where’s dad-_

He doesn’t hear them. Where would Erik even get a weapon? A bomb? There’s no way- 

He imagines Azazel teleporting them onto one of the planes, of him brutally knocking the pilots out, of Erik not knowing how to fly the damned thing but steering it around with his power, the hunk of metal screeching as it slowly twists around, turning away from district M and over district H- 

_No,_ Charles thinks, and he’s running outside and Alex looks worried, “Stay inside, there’s a bomb, get the kids safe,” Charles shouts at him, and then he’s pelting towards the apartment buildings nearby and he doesn’t have a megaphone or anything to warn them but he does have his power.

It’s like when the television toppled down, only this time it’s a bomb, but the instinct is the same. _Move!_ Charles roars in his head, in everyone’s head in the vicinity. _There’s a bomb, get to your shelters!_

The human district has bomb shelters dotted throughout the city, because god forbid their own weapons be turned against them. The mutants had no such protection. 

He shakes his head, and mentally shouts again. Humans- _people,_ he corrects himself- are sluggishly coming out of buildings, looking to the sky as if to see the origins of the voice.

_MOVE,_ he orders and this time it really is an order, not advice, and they do move, jerkily, against their will, down to the shelters. 

There’s no time to think of the ethics of it. He runs further down the street, mentally ordering people to save their own goddamn lives, and then the first bomb falls. 

It’s far enough out that he’s not hurt, can’t feel the heat of it but can see the smoke. It’s also far enough out that those people had no warning. 

_No,_ he thinks numbly, and finds himself running towards the smoke. It’s search-and-rescue again, although this time there’s no Azazel to safely nip in and out of the burning houses. There’s no Erik to shift the metallic debris. 

There’s just Charles, but he can still save some of them. He throws out his mental powers like a net, spreading it out, hoping to find someone, anyone. 

_oh god, someone help, mommy no,_ he hears, and runs towards the thought. It’s a little girl, no older than Wanda, though her thoughts are weak, like she’s hurt. 

Through the smoke, Charles doesn’t see the plane above. He’s not looking for it, he’s looking for the little girl- 

so Charles Xavier is the one that has no warning this time, when the second bomb drops, the bomb that blows off his legs. 

 

-

 

He is found. He is brought to a human hospital, and it is probably this that saves his life, his ability to pass for human. 

Human doctors cut and stitch and inject and Charles has no walls now, no mental barriers. They crumbled just like the burning buildings, so now he can see himself through their eyes with no way to shut it out. He slams his eyes shut, but he still sees it, the image of himself, burned and broken, two stumps where his legs- where his legs- 

he’s aware that he’s screaming, but can’t remember how to stop, and someone injects him, and then a heavy hand is pushing him down, and he passes out at last. 

 

-

 

They imprison Erik, eventually. Charles says nothing. With Erik’s children’s help, he could break Erik out easily enough, but he does not. 

He does take Wanda and Pietro however. They hadn’t lasted at the grandparents - _it was only temporary,_ he hears in his head- and Charles takes the memory of Pietro blurring too fast to be seen to catch a ball.. He wipes the existence of the children from them too. He doesn’t have qualms about doing things like this anymore. It’s for the twins’ safety. 

They move away, the three of them, and Alex and his kid brother Scott follow them, and Charles sends away anyone who comes looking too closely. 

There’s a nice garden out back where Pietro can run around as fast as he likes, where Scott and Alex shoot off lasers into the sky like fireworks, and somehow, Charles is happy. Somehow, people hear about what they’re doing, and more mutants come, and then he ends up building an extension, and another, and it’s pretty nice. 

He guesses that peace was never an option, not when they’re still hiding, not when they’re still hated. But Erik’s war wasn’t the solution either. He just wishes it hadn’t cost him his legs and Erik’s freedom to figure that out. 

Pietro and Wanda are getting older, and he takes them to visit Erik a lot. One of these days that visit will involve breaking Erik out and taking him home, but not just yet. Soon though. Very soon. 

 


End file.
